


Paradoxically Me and You

by GalaxyOwl



Category: Ars Paradoxica (Podcast)
Genre: (hopefully), Canon Compliant, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9271763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyOwl/pseuds/GalaxyOwl
Summary: Sally and Anthony have known each other for a long time now. (Assuming you believe in such concepts as "time" and "knowing.")





	

**Author's Note:**

> Secret santa present for ioniluna! More than a little bit late. Sorry about that.
> 
> This was originally supposed to be an exploration of Sally and Anthony's friendship, as requested; the focus wound up being a little wider than that, but I think it still works.

[1950]

Sally holds the phone to her head as she works. “Did I ever tell you about the garden?” She pokes at the device sitting on the table before her with the wire-cutter. “I must have, though. Yeah.” She holds it up to the light to better inspect it. “It’s surprisingly nice, is all. The pumpkins are coming along really well, and—“ 

She reaches for a tool on the counter across the room—reaches too far, yanks the telephone set off the counter with her, sending both it and Sally sprawling to the floor.

The solar cell, in her hand, isn’t shattered, but bent just to the point of shattering, she thinks. She  stands, sets it on the counter by the rest of the project. 

Then Sally  catches sight of the phone still on the ground. “Shit.” She picks it up, holding the receiver to her head as she replaces the thing back where it goes. “Uh, yeah, hi, Partridge, I’m sort of… I’ll call you back later, okay?” She hangs up, sighs, turns back towards the mess at hand.

As Sally looks at the mangled piece of technology, with no idea just yet how she’s going to fix it, the phone rings. She doesn’t jump for it; she can let it go to voicemail.

It does. It’s a message from Partridge, and it plays automatically. Sally looks up. “You okay?” Anthony asks. “That sounded like… well, it sounded like something. I’m honestly not even sure what.” Sally smiles. “I hope gardening isn’t proving to be too hazardous a pastime.” He stops. Sally thinks, for a second, that’s the end of the message, but then—“It’s good to hear your voice,” he says. “Even though we’ve been doing this for… forever now. Every time, it’s… it’s nice.”

The machine beeps to announce the end of the recording. Sally jumps onto the line.

“I’m fine! I just, uh, tripped. Sorry about that?” She stops.

Her gaze drifts out the window. “I wish you could see it,” she says. “The garden, that is. It’s… it’s really nice. It’s amazing, the way plants just _grow_. All they need is sunlight and a little water. A lot simpler than people, right?” She doesn’t know what she’s trying to say. “Good talking to you, Partridge.”

***

[1944]

The door swings shut behind Sally, a quieter sound than she expects. The chilly January air has already seeped into the house, and she looks over the empty room and sighs. It’s been three days since the failed timepiece test that sent radiation racing through town. She’d thought that might be the day that changed things, that what’s-his-name—Partridge—’s words would be enough to convince everyone that Sally wasn’t completely unworthy of social interaction.

It seems like she was wrong. 

She crosses the room and takes a seat in a chair, one of the lone pieces of furniture provided for her. She taps her fingers along the armrest, then stands again. Just another workday in Polvo.

She’s halfway to the bedroom when the sound of knocking makes its way to her ears. 

Sally turns. The sound comes again, from the front door of this far-too-empty house. She walks over and opens it.

Partridge stands outside her house, looking more uncertain of himself than she would expect.

“Uh, hi,” Sally says.

"Hey," he says.

"Can I help you?”

“Not exactly,” Partridge says. He doesn’t immediately elaborate.

“So, what,” Sally says, “you just happened to be passing by and thought you’d stop in?” Part of her is thrilled at the idea that the answer could be yes; that there could be someone in the ‘40s who think she’s that worth talking to. The other part of her is very aware of how pathetic and desperate that sounds.

“Yes, actually,” Partridge says. “Or—well, no, not actually. I mean—so, basically, there's a new wave of hires in town, and some of the women were putting together a little get-together, and, you know, and I thought, someone should invite you. Seeing as you're also sort of a new hire."

"Oh," Sally says. "I—um. Yes?"

"Yes, what?" Partridge says.

"Yes," she says, "I'd love to come."

***

[1946]

Sally sets the box on the top of the stack. "Is this the last load?”

"God, I hope so," Jack mutters. 

Esther starts to respond, but Sally can't hear her over Whickman's "Yes, it is."

Sally joins in the collective sigh of relief. Her arms are sore from trudging back and forth from the car to the lab, and she wants nothing more than to collapse onto some vaguely soft surface as soon as possible. Moving the entire remainder of ODAR operations halfway across the country has, unsurprisingly, proved to be an ambitious undertaking.

"—although, of course," Whickman continues, "any personal items you brought along, you'll have to sort out yourself, once you've found your place of residence."

Wyatt groans; Roberts swears under her breath. Even Partridge mutters something Sally doesn't quite catch. Sally looks across their faces and doesn't say anything.

It's not like she really has many personal items to worry about.

They all shuffle back into the van to drop off the others' things, though. As the last car door clicks shut, Jack says, “Hey, at least up in these godforsaken mountaintops we don’t have to worry about equipment getting sun-damaged.” It’s neither true nor especially funny, but Sally laughs anyways.

***

[1945]

There's a knock at the door to the lab, and Sally looks up from the timepiece in surprise. She's about to ask Wyatt to get it when whoever it is knocks again. Sally sighs, sets down the module she was tinkering with, and stands to get it. 

When she opens the door, there's a woman standing outside; Sally has the sense that she's seen her around the town, but they've never spoken. 

"Oh," says the woman. "Who—is Dr. Partridge...here?"

"Next street down," Sally says. "You must have gotten lost."

"This isn't predictive mechanics?"

"Nope," Sally says. "I can take you down there, if you want-—"

"I know where I'm going, thank you. I suppose I've gotten a little turned around, in this bad weather."

"Uh, yeah," Sally says. She's got another big timepiece experiment planned for tomorrow, and she needs to have everything prepped. Already her mind is wandering to the hundreds of things she could be doing; she needs to run the calculations, and double-check the hardware, and Wyatt and Roberts can handle some of that, but she'd like to be around to make sure they don't blow everything up somehow.

The woman smiles. "Yes," she says. "I'll just be getting out of your hair, then, Mrs...?"

"Grissom," Sally says, leaning away from the door to glance back at her work table. "No, sorry, ugh, it's _Dr_. Grissom."

"Oh!" she says. "So _you're_ Sally Grissom."

"Um, yes. Yes I am.” 

"Dr. Grissom?!" comes Esther's shout from inside, then footsteps clattering towards the door. "Are you—" She breaks off as she catches sight of the other woman standing on their stoop. "Mrs. Partridge," she says.

"Partridge—?" Sally turns back to face the stranger. "Oh! You're Anthony's wife!"

"Guilty as charged," Ms. Partridge says with a smile. She holds out a hand to shake. "Helen Partridge." 

Sally takes it. "You already know my name."

“Yes. It’s peculiar that we’ve never met, isn’t it? Anthony talks about you quite a bit." 

Sally laughs. "Really? What does he say?”

“Oh, all sorts of things. He’s quite a fan of your work, from what I can tell.”

“Really? That’s—“

"Dr. Grissom," Roberts says again. "We have to get back to work. I, at least, want to get something done today."

***

[1949]

Sally turns the modified phone receiver over in her hands. She's pretty sure she's got it this time. She and Anthony have been attempting to telegram back and forth, but this—this could be it, right? She could really talk to him!

She flips the device on, and it powers up with a buzz.

The idea here is that she can use a roughly-built timepiece analog to make contact with Anthony in the Blackroom by manipulating the way the sound waves entering the phone interact with the surrounding Tachyon field. Sally was up late last night running the calculations; she only got any sleep at all because she wound up drifting off at her desk. But hey, all's well that ends well, right?

"Here goes nothing."

She picks up the phone and dials the number she's been receiving telegrams from. It rings once, twice, three times, and then there's a sound as if the line is opening.

"Hello?" Sally says. Static blares from the phone line. "Helloooo?" Nothing. She waits a while longer, the phone to her ear, thrumming her fingers on the table. There still is only empty static. In continues a long while, a void where there should surely be something, some voice or answer or at least a “wrong number” message. But there is nothing.

Sally puts down the phone.

It didn't work. Why? This should work! She ran all of the numbers; doesn't it have to work, now? Doesn’t she deserve this little victory, this little piece of happiness in her life?

She sits back and stares at the thing. Sighs. Then she leaves the phone to compose a message to Partridge; maybe he'll have better luck. There must be something missing here, some element of the phone's function that she's not quite duplicating correctly.

They'll figure it out, though. They always do.

***

[1944]

Sally peers in the house's window, but can't seem to make anything out. Is this the right place? Maybe she should leave. Just in case. If it's the wrong house, it would be very embarrassing to just go knock on the door.

She shivers as the chill January wind rushes past. Yes, she should just go home. It's nice and warm there, and there are no people who will just passive-aggressively not talk to her anyways.

The door swings open. "Hello?" Sally looks up from the ground to see the woman standing in the doorway of the house. "Are you planning on coming in, or are you just going to stand out there in the cold all night?"

“I…” Sally says. “Yes, I’m coming in.” She climbs the steps up to the house.

“My name’s Esther Roberts,” says the woman with a smile, closing the door behind Sally.

“Sally,” she says, her gaze drifting to the small crowd talking and mingling on the other side of the room. “Sally Grissom.”

“You’re the new Tier 1 head, aren’t you?” Esther’s eyes light up. “How’d you manage that?”

“With difficulty,” Sally says.

Esther starts to agree, but Sally’s attention is distracted by Partridge calling out a greeting to her. She catches his eyes from and waves as he makes his way over.

Partridge introduces her to Roberts for a second time. They make pleasantries as the three of them make their way away from the entrance.

“How’s your work going, Dr. Grissom?” Partridge says.

“Good,” Sally says. “I can’t say much more than that, of course. Classified secrets and all.”

“I know, I know,” Partridge says, waving her off. “But I’m glad it’s going well.”

“Where’s Mrs. Partridge?” Esther asks, a little while later. Sally looks to Partridge in surprise; she hadn’t properly realized there _was_ a Mrs. Partridge.

“Home sick,” Partridge says. “Nothing too bad, but she didn’t want to risk going out in the cold. She sends her regards to everyone, though. Including you, Sally.”

“Why?” Sally says with half a laugh. “She doesn’t know me.”

“She probably thinks you’re—“ Roberts’ teasing tone is interrupted by a voice calling her name, and she turns to look. “I better go see what Jack’s gotten himself into now,” she says with a dramatized sigh. “I hope I can talk to you again later, though?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Sally says. “It was nice meeting you.” Esther flashes her a smile, and vanishes into the crowd. Sally turns back towards Partridge. “She seems nice.” 

“I think so.”

“What project is she on?” Sally asks. “Or is she a dependent?” Like his apparently-existent wife.

“You know, I think she’s a little adrift right now. I’d have to ask her, to be sure, we haven’t really talked much. Any particular reason you’re asking?”

“Donovan wants me to try to put together another list of potential lab techs.” Sally shrugs. “I was just thinking about it.”

“Everyone at Polvo is wildly talented,” Partridge says. “You’re golden no matter who you get to stay on with you.”

Sally nods. For the first time, she might actually believe that.

***

[1950]

"Do you remember the day we first met?" Partridge says. "I was so ready to hate you. I _wanted_ you to be some insufferable know-it-all who swung into town to steal people's jobs. I wanted to have someone to blame for the mess that was Polvo, I guess. But you..." In the recording, he pauses. "Well, maybe you are a little bit insufferable."

Sally snorts. The voicemail clicks off. She dials Partridge's number again. She hesitates a moment, and says, "What's got you all nostalgic?” 

She sets down the phone, it rings, she picks it up again.

"There's not room for much but nostalgia in here," Partridge says. "But you've got things to be doing, I'm sure. You don't need to listen to me ramble on about things you already know."

Click. Dial the number. Pick up the phone. "Partridge," Sally says, “Come on. If I didn't want to hear you ramble, I wouldn't have spent so much energy trying to talk to you again." She holds in the phone in silence a moment longer. “I do remember that day,” she says. “I was just thrilled someone was willing to talk to me, really. You know, you were one of the first people in this time who was actually nice to me, semi-accidental as it was. That meant a lot to me.” She doesn’t know what else to say, how to put any of it into words. She puts down the phone. 

He'll call her back soon, she's sure.


End file.
